


Red Sun Rises Like an Early Warning

by learningthetrees



Category: Slow West (2015)
Genre: AU ish, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This girl had a habit of that — her pointed questions caught him off guard more than once. In fact, the very first time he’d seen her, she’d looked at him with a knowing sadness and asked him something, even though he couldn’t know what. Now, when she came out with these questions, Silas found himself answering honestly.<br/>That was perhaps the only thing she had in common with Jay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Sun Rises Like an Early Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an anonymous request on Tumblr that kind of took on a life of its own.

She was around the same age Jay had been when they’d first met.

Silas couldn’t ignore the similarity. But Eva, at sixteen, was wildly more capable than Jay, and Silas couldn’t say he was surprised. After everything she’d been through, and at such a tender age, the west had hardened her.

He knew all about that.

But even so — even knowing that Eva could take care of herself — Silas had been hesitant to bring either her or her brother with him whenever he traveled beyond the cabin on the plain. He could manage well enough by himself, and there was no telling what might be out there — _who_ might be out there. They were better off staying where they were.

That had been Silas’s mindset on the matter for a while now, but one day, after he’d announced his plan to set off in search of sowing and harvesting supplies, Eva made her case. She was a girl of few words, but she’d been succinctly convincing. “You only have two hands,” she’d said, her face a vision of calm certainty. “How will you carry everything you need?”

She had a point. The things he wanted to find — trowels, barrels, a plow, if he was lucky — would be difficult for a single person to transport. “I’ll go with you,” she said, and it wasn’t a request, but a confirmation that everything would happen the way she said it would. Confident. Self-assured. Words Silas might have used to describe himself at sixteen years old. He was noticing that more and more. Eva was as much like him as she was unlike Jay.

When they set off that morning, a gray mist still settled over the plain in the wan light before dawn, Eva kept quiet. She did not need to speak to fill up the space between them, which was a welcome relief. Silence and vigilance went hand in hand; Silas had learned that when he was traveling alone through the west, before he’d ever taken up with Payne. And it appeared Eva had learned that, too. Silas wondered if her parents had trained her in the ways of the new world before she’d lost them.

If he thought about the departed for too long, Silas would feel a tightness in his chest, just below his heart. So he shook it from his mind and focused on the journey ahead. After scouting around, Silas had a fairly good idea of the best direction to head in, but there was no guarantee they’d be successful.

They rode toward the sun, watching as it peeked up over the horizon, a red disc bathing the plain in orange and setting the sky afire. Eva adjusted her straw hat to shade her fair complexion. Silas glanced past her — a knotty, gnarled dead tree stood in the distance, some twenty yards away. “Eva,” Silas called, and the girl looked over her shoulder at him. Silas jerked his chin at the tree. “Think you can hit that knot?”

She looked at it, then back at him, an eyebrow raised. “Can _you_?”

He lifted his pistol, took aim at the tree, and fired. The gunshot echoed across the flatness, but they were too far away to tell if his aim had been true. Eva set her jaw as she reached out. Silas handed her the pistol, and he watched as she cocked it, braced it in front of her, and let out a breath before pulling the trigger.

“Form’s not bad,” Silas said.

Eva handed the pistol back to him. “I know.”

Silas hadn’t wanted to teach her how to shoot. He couldn’t help but feel that, as he gave her the tools to survive, he was also sealing her fate. Those who lived by the gun died by the gun. But he knew she needed to learn. And luckily, she was a fast learner, remembering every word of his instructions. He’d never tell her, but she was a good shot.

She didn’t need to get an even bigger head about it.

They spurred their horses on, cantering up to the tree. Silas spotted a single bullet hole in the trunk. He pointed it out. “I got it,” he said.

Eva scoffed. “You mean I got it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Eva sighed, exasperated. “It was me.”

Silas smirked and started forward again. “If you say so.”

It wasn’t until the sun was setting that they spoke again. Out of the blue, Eva turned to him, bright blue eyes clear, and said, “Where did you come from?”

Silas was so taken aback by the question, he spluttered for a moment. “Uh — where — what?”

“Where did you come from? Who were you before this?” There was a sincerity on her features that forced any clever retorts from his mind. This girl had a habit of that — her pointed questions caught him off guard more than once. In fact, the very first time he’d seen her, she’d looked at him with a knowing sadness and asked him something, even though he couldn’t know what. Now, when she came out with these questions, Silas found himself answering honestly.

That was perhaps the only thing she had in common with Jay.

“Before this?” Silas rubbed a hand across his jaw, thinking. The life he’d lived before hadn’t been much of a life: scrounging, scavenging, hunting, stealing, hurting. “I was nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing worth being.”

Eva was quiet for a moment, looking down at her hands in the saddle. Then she spoke again. “Is it better now?”

Silas knew what she was really asking: How his life now — as a farmer, a settler, a makeshift father — compared with the lost wildness of his youth. He swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice was barely more than a grunt.

Eva accepted his answer and fell silent again. As they set up camp for the night, Silas wondered if she remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Like always, he hoped she didn’t — for her sake, and also for his.

Morning saw them in their saddles yet again. Eva, energized, wore a wide smile as she put her horse through his paces. She’d canter ahead and turn back, racing in a circle around Silas. He shook his head. “You’re going to wear that poor beast out,” he said, but she didn’t heed him.

So naturally, by noon, Eva’s horse needed water and a rest. They dismounted by the river, and Silas grasped the reins of both horses and led them down the embankment to the water. As they rested and refreshed, Silas looked out across the landscape — they were alone for now, but he was too world-wearied to believe that meant they were safe. Danger had a way of hiding, waiting to make itself known.

Eva had wandered downstream, and Silas looked over to see her clambering up a massive boulder. On the other side, she hopped down onto a rock that jutted out from the water. With one foot firmly planted on the rock, she held out her arms for balance and leapt from one rock to the next. She quivered upon landing, bending her knee to compensate, but then she resumed her position, ready to jump again.

Silas felt the moment happen slowly and all at once, compounded with the dread of knowing he was too far away to stop it. As Eva sprang forward, her foot slipped on the wet rock, and she crashed against it, landing with her arm pinned between her and the rock before she tumbled into the water. Before her yellow hair had even disappeared below the surface, Silas was sprinting downriver. He had the wherewithal to disregard his hat before diving into the water.

A wall of whitewater obscured his vision, and currents buffeted him back and forth. Silas searched on all sides, his eyes wide underwater as he strained to see. Then, when his lungs were beginning to ache, he burst through the surface of the water and gasped for air. _Breathe._ That’s when he spotted a glimmer of blue fabric before it slipped below the water again.

Silas swam forward, cutting through the choppy water. He felt his fingers brush something, and he gripped it tight, towing Eva back towards him by the back of her dress. She was coughing — that meant she was breathing — but there was a lot of blood soaking her clothes. Holding her to him with one arm, Silas steered them back to the bank with the other. He hoisted her out of the water and onto the bank. She was nearly grown and soaking wet, but some strength in him had been awakened.

With Eva safely perched on land, Silas climbed out and crouched beside her, immediately taking stock. Her head seemed to be fine, her neck unharmed. Then he glanced down to where the right sleeve of her dress was rent, the edges bloody, and he gently peeled back the torn fabric, feeling a sick jolt in the pit of his stomach. A long, deep laceration traced down her forearm. “Can you move your fingers?” Silas asked.

Eva’s fingers twitched, but she grimaced. Silas touched a thumb lightly to her arm, and she let out a yelp, jerking her arm away. But not before Silas felt the bones shift in her arm in a way they shouldn’t have. It must have been broken. Silas tore away the rest of her sleeve, and then he looked up at Eva. To her credit, she was not crying, but he could read the pain in her eyes clearly. “This is going to hurt,” he said. She nodded.

Silas wrapped the fabric around her forearm several times, binding it as tightly as he could without causing her too much pain. She bit her lip, but she didn’t cry out again. Silas tied a knot in the bandage and then hoisted her to her feet. She might have walked, or he might have carried her — he didn’t know. His mind was too lost in the singular need to get her home.

With Eva settled firmly in the saddle in front of him, Silas snapped the reins, picking up speed until he was pushing his horse to a near sprint. That feeling in the pit of his stomach had doubled. Silas recognized it: guilt.

He had brought her out here into this world, and yet he couldn’t keep her safe. He was her protector, her father in all but name. He had raised her. She was his responsibility, and he’d let her down.

She shouldn’t have even been here.

He should have trusted his gut.

It was Jay all over again.

Silas was concentrating so firmly — his jaw set, brow furrowed, eyes fixed on the horizon — that he almost didn’t hear it. But Eva’s small voice cut through the wind whipping against them.

“It’s not your fault.”

He grunted. It was.

“It’s _not_.”

Silas would have a hard time convincing himself.

 

* * *

 

In years to come, whenever anyone asked Eva about the scar on her forearm, she would launch into an animated recounting of how it came to be. How she’d slipped and crashed into a boulder, caught in the roiling river. How she’d passed out from loss of blood and woke up in the tent of a Native medicine woman. How her arm had been bound with a splint for months until it healed, albeit a little crooked. She would gesture, eyes wide, voice hushed in the telling.

But if Silas was within earshot of the story, a look would pass over his face. His lips would tighten, his eyes averted to the ground. And it wasn’t until Eva placed a hand on his arm that he would look up. And sometimes, when she said, “It wasn’t your fault,” he believed her.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at [ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com](http://www.ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com)!


End file.
